A Dream in the Dark
by ToastyToaster22
Summary: Sequel to Never Hopeless. Takeru had been home for a few months and things were settling down. His mom was moving closer, he was caught up with school work, he would be in the same class as Hikari and Daisuke in the spring. Things were good. Unfortunately the peace shattered along with his bedroom window.
1. Dreamless

**Hi guys! I never really expected to be writing this but here we are? **

**If you have not read Never Hopeless, I HIGHLY suggest doing so. Much of this will not make sense if you don't know the background.**

**Reminder that Takeru is finishing the second half of the school year as a fourth grader and then bumping up to sixth. NH ended mid November 2002.**

* * *

Takeru's face split into a wide grin as the end of the day bell rang. One more school day and then it would be spring break. There wasn't much of a reason to be so excited, his family didn't have anything in particular planned for the vacation, but Takeru was looking forward to the start of the new year. With some intensive tutoring from Ken, a few additional lessons from Koushiro, and the occasional homework help from Yamato, Takeru had successfully tested into sixth grade for the coming school year.

The boy hurried to collect his things and called goodbye to the teacher before rushing out into the hall. He wove around the other students to his locker, hastily stuffing his backpack and changing his shoes.

The surge of happiness at the thought of walking home was followed by the tiniest mental cringe.

School was fine. He had made friends in his class. His teachers were all aware he was doing his best to catch up. They didn't make a big deal when he was ignorant of recent events. There were so many new movies, books, and technology that had come out in the past three years that no matter how much everyone had done their best to catch him up, there would always be something. One teacher had really pushed him about his math grade. And maybe another had warned him that his handwriting needed to be addressed… but Takeru was working on that. It wasn't too much. School was _fine_.

The chosen of hope just hated that there was a part of him that struggled with being inside most of the day. It was a low key but persistent near claustrophobia while he was in the school building. Too many closed doors. Too many bodies pressed into the space. Not enough fresh air. Takeru imagined the issue was exacerbated by the abnormally cold winter they'd had. The apartment wasn't so bad, but the school was being pumped full of hot, recycled air. It was stifling sometimes.

He yearned for open windows and a the smell of new flowers. And now it was nearly spring break, the temperatures had been steadily rising, and the promise of ten days of going outside whenever he wanted was practically mouthwatering.

Jacket on and bag slung over his shoulder, Takeru made his way towards the front of the school. Just as he was passing the administration office, one of the secretaries, Mrs. Hagiwara, popped her head out the door.

"Takaishi, would you step into the office for a minute? I have some papers for you and your father."

Takeru did so, curiosity stirring. His father had already signed all the approvals to skip fifth grade (so long as his grades didn't slip), but maybe there were more formalities that he didn't know about.

The woman flipped through the neat stacks of paper piled across her desk, a somewhat distracted look on her face.

"They were meant to be mailed out Monday, but my meeting ran late, and they missed the pick-up time. Fujitaka decided it would be easier to just give them to you in person, even if it feels a bit informal to me- Oh, here we are," she pulled a large manila envelope from her 'outgoing' box and leaned over the desk to hand them to the boy. Takeru took it, nodding his thanks.

"That has your individual scores from the placement assessments, so make sure your father takes a good look and you can study up in the areas that need attention over break…"

Takeru tried not to make a face at the thought of spending more time cooped up and trying to jam more facts into his exhausted brain. He tightened his grip on the envelope and stopped himself from fidgeting. He really wanted to be outside. It was like an itch.

"-giving you your class schedule for the new year a little early. Your homeroom assignment should be listed there as well. We thought it would give you the opportunity to reach out to your teachers ahead of time if need be, or to meet some of your new classmates."

Takeru's heart skipped a beat. He was pretty sure Hikari or Daisuke were in Homeroom B. Both? Or was it A this year? He couldn't remember. Everyone else had gotten their class assignments weeks ago and Takeru couldn't keep them all straight in his head. It would be so much easier if it were just alphabetical. But then it would be impossible for Daisuke to be with him and Hikari…

Mrs. Hagiwara dismissed him and Takeru all but ran from the room. He burst out of the school and sucked in a deep breath that sounded more like a laugh on its way out. The sunshine warmed his face and shoulders and he sped over to where his friends were waiting at the gate, ripping the envelope open as he went.

"What took you so long? You're usually the first one out here, man!" Daisuke joked.

"I got a bunch of stuff for Dad, but I got my homeroom assignment!" Takeru dug through the packet, searching for his schedule.

Hikari and Miyako came closer, and Daisuke leaned over his shoulder.

"Oh, that's so exciting! I hope you're with us," Hikari's eyes were bright.

Miyako gave a groan of longing.

"I wish I had more friends in my class. I can't believe I'm not going to see you guys at school for a whole year!"

Iori patted her back.

"There will be five other chosen children at the middle school with you, Miyako. You won't be alone."

Takeru finally found what he was looking for tucked between the myriad of papers he couldn't care less about.

"Oh! Here, lets see… homeroom, homeroom, homeroom…"

"Sweet, we're all together! Hikari and I are in B too!" Daisuke clapped Takeru on the shoulder.

The boy stared with joy at the little 6-B printed in the righthand corner of the paper. Emotion swelled in his chest and pushed its way up his throat, escaping in a near-hysterical giggle. He was back to the grade he was supposed to be in. He was going to spend the next year in the same class as Hikari and Daisuke. There were buds on the trees and warmth in the breeze, and here he was, surrounded by friends and he was _happy_.

Really happy. Or maybe happy wasn't the word for it. He was… content. Like maybe things weren't perfect, but for the moment, Takeru wouldn't want to change a thing.

He was walking on air the whole time they walked home, barely listening to the conversation around him. Takeru waved goodbye to Daisuke as he split off from the group towards his own home. His insides were humming and it made his feet want to hop and skip down the sidewalk instead of plod along like the others. He'd have to bottle it up until he had a more publicly acceptable outlet like basketball or wait until he could jump around the apartment. He could tell he wasn't doing a very good job because Iori was side-eyeing him with a look that meant Takeru was embarrassing him.

He bit his cheek and slowed down a little. Things like keeping his actions "socially acceptable" were really difficult when he spent some very formative years with creatures that danced when they damn well pleased and didn't give a hoot about decorum.

"See you tomorrow!" Hikari waved, her pink coat flapping in the wind.

Takeru called goodbye, continuing on with Miyako and Iori. They lived in an apartment complex only a few buildings down from him, and if everything progressed as planned, his mother would be moving into their building in the next few weeks. She'd succeeded in getting a transfer back to the Odaiba office. It would make Sunday night dinners much easier when she wasn't fighting against miles of traffic or having to spend so much time cramped on the trains.

Things were still awkward when all four of them were together, but much of the air had been cleared in the first month of Takeru coming home. Things were getting easier.

* * *

Takeru thought about calling his mother at work to tell her the good news. He didn't. As excited as he was, that kind of thing could wait until he saw her on Sunday. His parents had been rather lenient on him since he came home, but he didn't want to take advantage. Calling people at work was supposed to be for emergencies only.

He did seriously consider popping into the Digital World to see Patamon. Takeru stood in front of the computer, his hand fisted around his digivice. He _wanted_ to see Patamon. But Patamon needed rest, and the plan was for him to stay in the Digital World Monday, Thursday, and Friday nights. His partner needed to be able to hang out with the other digimon, and Takeru needed to be able to go a day or two without him.

Takeru scowled. He was anxious, but it was anxious-excited and not the prickly, cold anxious that he used to get whenever Patamon wasn't in sight. They hadn't broken their new schedule in weeks. If he went in now, Patamon would think something was wrong, and that certainly wasn't the case.

Turning abruptly away from the screen, Takeru threw his digivice onto his bed with more force than was necessary and left the room.

He needed something constructive. His blue eyes fell on the packet on the counter with his test scores.

Nope. Anything but that.

His stomach grumbled. There. That was something he could put energy into. Cooking.

Except, he was very inexperienced and knew how to cook only a few simple things. He often stood by Yamato and watched as he prepared dinner. Takeru had picked up on _some_ things, he imagined… But what to make?

A glance at the clock told him that Yamato would be home from band practice within the hour. He could make them a snack. Something celebratory, but hard to screw up. No meats. Nothing that needed frying or marinating…

Takeru opened the pantry and pulled out his father's cookbook. He flipped through the yellowed pages quickly, only pausing here and there when something caught his eye.

Oh.

The boy stopped suddenly. He could make Okonomiyaki. It was less fancy and more of a festival food, but it was basically just pancakes. And he could add strawberries and kiwi… no, they were out- bananas would be fine. And sweet cream. They definitely still had a container on the door of the fridge. Those were closer to crepe toppings, but those were so delicate he didn't trust himself with them.

Takeru bustled around the kitchen for the next twenty minutes, all his extra energy going into whisking the thin batter and chopping fruits. He kept the heat low on the stove so that he didn't accidentally burn the cakes, or have the inside still wet, so it took longer than he expected to make a respectable stack.

The door opened right at he was pouring the last dribbles of batter out of the ladle. Yamato came around the corner and let his guitar case slowly slip down his arm, his eyes wide.

"Wow, Teeks… what're you doing?"

Takeru hovered over the final pancake in the skillet, his eyes flicking to his brother.

"I'm cooking."

Yamato laughed.

"Yeah, I see that. And it smells fantastic, but…"

Takeru could hear the question in the older boy's tone and couldn't keep a straight face.

"I got assigned to Hikari and Daisuke's class!" He said gleefully. "And I am waiting to tell Mom and Patamon, so I had to _do_ something. So, I am making okonomiyaki!"

"That's great, Takeru, I know you were hoping you would," Yamato came over and scrubbed a hand through his little brother's hair affectionately.

Takeru chuckled but pushed him away.

"Don't mess me up, Onii-san, I'm working hard you know."

* * *

It turned out that the okonomiyaki batter made more than enough for two people. So, when Hiroaki came home from work later, Yamato cooked up some pork and they ate a second round.

Takeru's stomach was almost uncomfortably full, but he swore food tasted even better when he made it himself. Yamato was right about that. He changed into pajamas, brushed his teeth and crawled under the covers, still grinning. He couldn't stop.

"Night Teeks," Yamato turned off the light and climbed up to the top bunk, jiggling Takeru's mattress lightly and then settling.

"Goodnight, Onii-san!"

Takeru laid still a moment and let his eyes adjust to the dark. Then he squirmed. Onto his side. His other side. He blinked against the black, his heart refusing to calm down despite the hour.

When he rolled again, he heard a soft grumble.

"You're shaking the bed."

"Sorry."

He carefully rolled onto his back, picking at the covers so he didn't get twisted in them.

"We have school tomorrow. Go to sleep so I can sleep," Yamato sounded like he was trying his best not to laugh, but Takeru obliged.

"See you tomorrow, Onii-san…"

His brother huffed.

"Night."

It took Takeru forever to convince his body to sleep, but when he did, it was dreamless.

His peace shattered along with the bedroom window.


	2. Night Terrors

**You guys. You have no idea how much fun I am having writing this story already. Chapter 3 is already almost done, as is the mapping and notes for all events. I have no idea how long this will be. May outstrip Never Hopeless.**

**Reminder that this is a Adventure 02 AU. You may recognize things, but anything that has been changed is on purpose.**

**My stories feel mild compared to what I usually read, but warnings for children in perilous situations? I don't want to give spoilers, but more immediate danger than Never Hopeless had.**

* * *

Takeru hadn't transitioned from dead asleep to awake and _so incredibly alarmed_ since he was nine years old and lightning struck a tree thirty feet from where he and Patamon decided to bed down. It was a feeling he didn't miss and was less than thrilled to be feeling once more.

The bedroom window exploded inwards, something large crashed through the hole yanking the curtains off their rod as it went, and Takeru completely forgot where he was. In his attempt to get away from the flying glass, he rolled to the left and slammed directly into the wall. The boy gasped at the unexpected pain in his forehead and kicked his feet out to rid himself of the blankets.

His heart hammered in his chest and he didn't for a second even attempt to stop and see what had entered the bedroom. The boy scrambled sideways over the headboard and fell to the floor. Yamato yelled out above him. The chosen of hope clambered to his feet just in time to duck under a dark, gauntlet covered hand. He should have gone off the other end of the bed. Here he was trapped in the corner between the bed and the desk and there wasn't anywhere for him to go when the hand swung out again.

Patamon's absence dug into his heart the same way the digimon's hand dug into his shirt.

The digimon yanked him in, dark eyes glittering in the pale light streaming in the broken window. Small, tattered wings jutted out of his back, and in his other hand was a long staff topped in a pale, yellow orb.

Takeru had just enough time to realize he had no idea who this digimon was before a weight dropped down on them from above and they crumpled to the floor.

"Get away from him!"

Yamato grabbed the digimon's shoulder and slammed a heel down on the hand gripping Takeru's nightshirt. There was a howl and a loud ripping, and then the younger boy was free. He flopped backwards, pulse racing at the sight of his brother wrestling with the enemy. Takeru heard their dad's door bang open down the hall.

The skeletal digimon cackled about them putting up a pitiful fight in a gravelly voice and pinned Yamato to the floor. Frantic, Takeru lunged upright, blue eyes frantically searching for his digivice. The desk chair was overturned, and with it, his backpack and sweatshirt. He couldn't see it-

"Boys are you- What the Hell!?"

Hiroaki Ishida barreled into the room wielding the dirty skillet from dinner, horror painting his face when he saw what was happening.

The digimon flicked his staff towards the newcomer, the orb glowing for a split second before-

"Nail Bone!"

The chosen of hope had never moved so fast in his life, wrenching his father off his feet and the two of them falling back to the floor as a hot beam of light blew a hole in the door behind them.

"Jesus Christ!"

"Takeru, get out of here!" Yamato cried, his voice hoarse from the weight on his back.

Their father was up in an instant.

"Get your hands off my son!" He charged the beast like it hadn't almost succeeded in vaporizing him only seconds before.

Patamon wasn't here, but Takeru wasn't useless without him. The eleven-year-old rushed into the fray, mentally reaching to where he could feel his crest. His whole body went cold as the river of power he had felt in the Dark Ocean now seemed to be more of a small stream. Still there, but significantly less comforting.

To Takeru's dismay, when he threw out his hand to shield his father from a blow, the gold only shimmered for a brief moment before winking out again. It was just enough to deflect the digimon's arm.

The chosen of hope avoided a second shot from the staff and pressed as close to the fight as he dared. He tried to concentrate the light around his hand. There was a flicker at his fingertips. Takeru pressed hard against the skeleton's chest, hoping to push it back and make it release his brother. It suddenly burned hot and there was a flash, the digimon stumbling into the wall with a pained cry. Takeru and his father pulled Yamato up and staggered back into the bed frame, all three of them breathing heavily.

Shaking his head, the dark digimon growled.

"Enough playing."

Takeru didn't have any time to react. The digimon shot forward like a bullet, an icy hand closing around the boy's arm like a vice. They moved, and before the chosen of hope could process what had happened, they were out the window.

A startled yelp escaped him as his feet dangled eight stories above the streets. There was an echo to his cry, but he had bigger problems. He reached up with his other hand with a desperate terror, scrabbling to get his own hold on the digimon's arm before it decided to drop him.

The cold wind tore through his nightclothes. Whipped his hair into his face and numbed his ears. The digimon's grip was bruising.

"Takeru!"

The boy's heart stopped when he turned his head and saw his brother hanging from the digimon's other hand. He'd taken both of them?

"Shut up," The red skeleton snapped, dipping them into a dive to weave between buildings.

Dread welled in Takeru's chest. Wherever they were being taken, he did not want to go.

They streaked through the streets, the ripped collar of Takeru's shirt snapping at the back of his neck. He was never leaving Patamon behind again. This was bad. This was really, really bad.

Yamato kicked out at the digimon's ribs. In reply, the dark creature swerved and sunk another dozen feet in the air, the boys swinging wildly with the change. Yamato let out a low shout of surprise when they blew through a string of lanterns and sent them scattering. It was the tinge of fear in his brother's voice that spurred Takeru into action.

"Onii-san!"

He let go and flung his hand out towards Yamato. The older boy's larger hand immediately clasped his, and in his mind's eye, Takeru dipped into the river. Hard.

A dome of light burst out around him and Takeru felt his arm slip out of the digimon's grip. He willed himself not to scream as they began to drop. If he could just hold the shield until they hit the ground, maybe it wouldn't hurt so bad.

A terrific jerk from above jolted them to a stop, but the momentum was too much. His eyes widened in panic when Yamato's fingers slipped from his.

And then Takeru was falling.

* * *

Miyako was no stranger to being woken in the middle of the night by banging around downstairs. It was the unfortunate side effect of having a family with three small children living directly underneath them. Weird bumps and thumps, crying, and other raucous noises often reverberated up through the floor. And the window. Miyako loathed being hot at night, so her window was almost always cracked for air. That didn't help block the sounds out.

A muffled bang had the girl's eyelids clenching shut in aggravation. This would be the third night in a row that something had woken her up and she was pretty darn sick of it.

She rolled onto her stomach and groaned into the mattress, pulling her pillow over her head.

A much louder crash was accompanied by a scream, followed by another.

Miyako froze, goosebumps raising on her bare arms. That wasn't a bunch of kids refusing to sleep. The girl cautiously raised her head and reached an arm out towards her bedside table slowly, fingers finding her glasses and slipping them on. She sat up on her knees, and for a few seconds there was ringing silence.

The sound of glass breaking. And it wasn't coming from immediately downstairs, but from the window.

Unnerved, she tucked her feet into her slippers and crept out of her room and towards the kitchen. She didn't remember picking up her digivice, but it was in her hand.

"What's going on? Should we call the police…?" Mantarou's quiet voice startled her.

Apparently, she wasn't the only one who had woken. Her father and brother stood in the dark of the front hall, listening. Her mother hovered by the bedroom, her bathrobe pulled tight.

Her father shrugged his jacket on, not answering the question. He opened the door, warily stepping out to the hall. Mantarou glanced back at her, unsure, then followed.

Unwilling to wait in a dark room and listen to eerie screaming, Miyako hurried to catch the door before it closed. They were not the only people curious. The front of the building was teeming with concerned citizens, all muttering about the disturbance. Some were already on their phones, likely calling the authorities.

Miyako found a space at the railing and bent over it to see where the noises were coming from.

A abrupt burst of light came from an apartment two floors down and one to the right. A cocky, feminine voice called out,

"Darkness Wave!"

Miyako's blood turned to ice as the Hida's door slammed out into the hall with so much force that the hinges broke. The crowd around her gasped. A few of them fled back to their homes.

A cloud of smoke (bats?) flew out the doorway, quickly followed by what Miyako could only imagine was a literal she-devil. Decked head to toe in black leather, the demonic woman soared into the night. Clutched in her arms was Iori, one of her hands over his mouth.

Miyako was running through the hall, around clumps of startled people, down the stairs. Her father called for her to come back. To stop. She didn't stop until the was in the Hida's ruined kitchen.

Her breath coming in short gasps, the chosen child surveyed the damage.

"Mrs. Hida?" She called breathlessly.

A low voice wafted out from one of the back bedrooms.

"Get away from us!" A hysterical voice answered.

Miyako stepped through the debris as quickly as she could and stumbled into Iori's room.

Mrs. Hida was backed in a corner with Iori's grandfather, gripping a broom like a baseball bat. Covered in dust and looking dazed was Armadimon.

"Holy crap…" The girl dropped to her knees beside the little guy.

She cradled his head in her palms, and he blinked sadly up her.

"Please put the broom down, he isn't going to hurt you. I promise," Miyako directed at the shaken mother.

"What the hell was that thing? It took Iori! Why did it want my child?" Fumiko Hida's words trembled. "And what do you mean its not going to hurt me? The other one blew up half the house!"

"I tried to tell ya, that was LadyDevimon. She's an evil one, she is. I tried to protect Iori, but it all happened so fast. I didn't have time to do much evolving," Armadimon sounded agitated under his exhaustion. "Miyako you gotta help me get everyone so we can get him back."

Miyako nodded calmly, even if she was shaken and confused and worried.

"I'll get my D-terminal and we'll get everyone rounded up, okay Armadimon? We'll get Iori back as fast as we can."

Iori's partner sagged into her arms.

"Mrs. Hida… don't… don't tell the police what happened. This isn't something they can help, okay?" Miyako begged. Getting the cops involved would only make things more difficult.

Iori's grandfather looked like he was considering it. Iori's mother, on the other hand, looked almost offended.

"Well what am I supposed to do then? My son was just kidnapped and my house destroyed, there's evidence everywhere! My front door is broken, I can't just say nothing happened."

Miyako grimaced. That was a good point. But they didn't have _time_ for this. The faster they all got together and tracked LadyDevimon down, the better.

"Armadimon, can you de-volve? You're kind of heavy, and I need to take you upstairs," Miyako whispered.

The little digimon nodded. He shut his eyes and after a quick flicker of light, Upamon sat in her lap.

Mrs. Hida's mouth fell open in astonishment, the broom clattering to the floor.

"That's… You're Iori's- I thought you were a stuffed animal…"

"I'm really sorry, and I promise to tell you more later, okay? But we have to act fast. I need to go now, but we'll take care of it. Tell the police whatever you think would be best," Miyako stood and started backing out of the room. There was so much she needed to do and time was of the essence. Yet she felt awful leaving the Hida family like this.

Iori's grandfather shuffled over, gently placing a wrinkled hand on her shoulder. There was a message in his dark eyes that Miyako couldn't quite decipher.

"Do what you need to do, child."

And Miyako was off. Back through the cluttered apartment, past her father and brother who had come after her, up the stairs, down the hall, and through her home. She went straight for her D-terminal. With that in one hand, and Upamon tucked under her other arm, Miyako disappeared into the Digital World.

* * *

Kokoro Ichijouji had a habit of waking in the middle of the night to check on her son. It started back when Osamu was born, a cranky, fussy little baby who her husband swore was nocturnal. Even when he got older and occasionally started sleeping through the night, she never failed to wake in the early hours of the morning, an inexplicable thread tying her to her child's bed. She would carefully peek in, see her boy peacefully slumbering on, and return to her own bed.

Ken's birth only strengthened the pattern. He didn't cry anywhere near as loudly as his older brother, and if anything, that made sleeping all the more difficult. Kokoro's ears were straining even in her sleep to hear the faintest warble of distress from her baby.

The nightly ventures to her boys' room slowed as they grew a little older and started school. They both slept solidly through the night by then, wiped out by school and homework.

Things changed when Osamu passed. Kokoro didn't like to dwell on those times.

They settled again when Ken started doing so well academically. And in sports. And in everything.

Obviously if he was doing so well, she could relax enough to stay the night in bed. Her boy didn't seem to welcome her presence anyway.

She was wrong though. When Ken went missing she spent almost every night in his room. Sleepless.

When he did come home, he was so lost. He seemed almost shy, even around his own parents. Kokoro worried.

The nightly trips to his room were rekindled. Ken had appeared so genuinely happy these past few months, hanging out with his friends in Odaiba often and having the Motomiya boy over quite frequently. Kokoro welcomed it, but still the habit remained. Sometimes the mother wondered if she would ever be able to sleep through the night.

Kokoro Ichijouji padded down the hall, the long rug making her steps inaudible. It was a miracle she hadn't worn a path down to the floorboards by now. Yawning widely, the woman paused in front of her child's closed door. Maybe she should leave him be. He _had_ just turned thirteen. He needed his privacy.

Decidedly turning back to her own room, she felt a cool breeze about her ankles. Confused, she stopped and frowned at the floor. Another wave of cold air wafted out from the crack under Ken's bedroom door.

"It wasn't that warm today…" She mumbled. Ken knew better than to leave his window wide open at night. It was spring but the night still held a considerable chill.

She shivered, wrapping an arm around her middle.

"I'll just pop in and close it," She didn't know why she felt the need to justify this to herself.

The door pushed inward without a sound, and frigid air rode over her like a wave.

The window was all the way open, the dark curtains fluttering. Ken's blankets were half on the floor, strewn about like someone had given up while changing the linens.

The bed was empty.

Kokoro's heart sunk to her toes.

"Oh god, not again…"

* * *

Sora stretched, a tiny sound of contentment brushing her lips. What had woken her? The girl blinked lazily, breathing out deeply. A pull at the back of her throat alerted her to her problem.

Oh. She was thirsty.

Normally she kept a water bottle by her bed, but she was pretty sure she had washed it earlier and forgotten it by the sink. A wave of her arm proved it was indeed missing. Sora had noticed before tucking in that night that it wasn't there… But she had been so tired she figured she would sleep through the night without it.

Well. Hindsight was 20/20 after all.

Slipping out of bed, she headed towards the kitchen, her bare feet quiet against the wood floors. The change to cool tile sent a shudder though her body. Her toes curled against the sensation. Grabbing her water bottle and filling it with the tap, she returned to her room. It wasn't cold in the apartment per say, but she was eager to curl back up. It was still much too early to be up.

Sora hummed as she slid beneath the sheets again. They were still warm. She took a few hearty sips of her drink and settled back against the pillow.

Her breaths evened out.

The chosen of love opened her eyes at the low creak.

She peeked around the shadowed room, seeing movement outside her bedroom window. With it came the distant sound of wind. Satisfied with the thought of the building simply settling, she tugged the comforter up to her chin and closed her eyes.

A shuffle of feathers.

Unease fluttered in Sora's chest. Her brown eyes opened once more.

A second, higher pitched creak.

"Piyomon…?" She asked.

Nothing.

She waited.

Seconds.

Minutes.

Her eyelids drooped. It was probably new leaves rustling. She'd gone months without hearing the sound after all.

And then the unmistakable sound of claws on the floor.

Sora shot up and spun towards the window, heart in her throat.

The last thing she saw was a crow-like silhouette.

* * *

Yamato's face twisted in horror as the dark digimon snatched him out of mid-air by the ankle. Takeru's shoulder jerked, and his fingers were ripped from his brother's.

The chosen of hope was sent spinning, throwing his arm out to cushion his impact with the sidewalk. His left hand hit first, twisting awkwardly as he fell on top of it and rolled. Later, his father would say that it was lucky they were flying quickly enough that Takeru hit the ground at an angle and hadn't dropped straight down. It didn't feel lucky at the time. Everything ached, his wrist gave a screaming throb, and Takeru was sure he had a spectacular case of road rash.

The boy ignored all of it in favor of lurching back to his feet before he had entirely stopped skidding. Wheezing, he darted down an alley on the right. It was darker there, and full of discarded restaurant equipment. Ducking beneath a refrigerator propped against the wall, the boy dared to glance up to the sky.

The digimon was tracing a graceless loop to his left. Yamato was fighting his grip tooth and nail, the devil incapable of both holding his hostage and coming after Takeru.

The eleven-year-old waited two seconds until they were facing the other direction, and then shot down the alley and across the street, not bothering to check for cars. The pavement bit at his bare feet. He heard the skeleton give a shout not far behind, and he pushed himself to go faster.

He couldn't save his brother if he was caught too.

Takeru careened between buildings, taking erratic corners and sticking to the darkest parts of the street. The few lights of the city casting deep shadows where they couldn't reach. There was no one else out at this hour.

He nearly tripped over a curb, catching himself against a city mailbox to stop from faceplanting. Momentum lost, Takeru's legs turned to jelly and he let himself slump to the ground. His whole body trembled from exertion. His side cramped. His feet (his arms, his forehead) stung like crazy. His left wrist felt hot and tight. Blue eyes searched the sky anxiously, and when there was no sight of his pursuer, he crawled under the nearest parked car.

Laying face down on the street, his head on the back of his better arm, Takeru let himself shake and gasp until his breath came easier and his blood didn't feel like ginger ale.

Someone had Yamato. Someone had targeted them both, broken into their house in the middle of the night and taken them. Takeru needed help. He needed Patamon. He needed the others. Oh god, his dad. He needed to get home first.

Takeru flexed his left hand, hissing and blinking back tears.

"Ow, shit. Okay, don't do that again…"

Gathering his wits, the boy crept to the edge of the vehicle. Hopefully he would be able to spot a street sign or recognize a shop and know which direction to go. What he saw instead was a dark streak in the sky, too large to be the digimon that attacked him. He snapped his head back to avoid being seen.

Then the sirens started.

* * *

**Anybody who reads my older works may recall that I've said I write to music. Usually the same song a million times over. Its always been Imagine Dragons, Of Monsters and Men, Bleachers, or something else with heartfelt, rather beautiful sounds.**

**This is being written to a mix of Three Days Grace, Paramore, and a three hours long EDM mix. Its a good thing I don't have downstairs neighbors anymore, huh?**


	3. Sleepwalking

**Hey there everybody! The mess continues!**

**I have 13 chapters organized already. I have never planned this far ahead for any story, so updates will likely be pretty consistent. Can't promise once a week, but something close to it!**

* * *

Merciful quiet, and then… dinging?

"Ugh… Ten more minutes, yeesh," Taichi groused, pressing his face into the crook of his elbow.

The dinging continued.

Annoyed, the teen groped around on his desk, searching for his alarm clock. His fingers found it, and he brought his fist down on the snooze button with much more force than was strictly necessary. The thing bounced to the side and fell over with a clatter.

The high-pitched dinging rang through the room despite his efforts.

Taichi raised his face from his arm, squinting in the dark. Why was it still dark out? He fumbled to right the clock, blinking at the bright green numbers glaring back at him.

Two forty-eight in the morning?

What?

He vaguely registered the sound of quick footsteps, and then his bedroom door swung in and the dark shape of his little sister hurried into the room.

"Onii-chan!" Hikari's voice was hushed, but her tone had Taichi immediately concerned. Her face was illuminated by the light of her D-terminal, and Tailmon was at her heels.

"What? What's wrong?" The chosen of courage bolted upright.

Hikari climbed up on the bed beside him, wide brown eyes reflecting the device's light. She thrust it under his nose, and he took it from her, pulling it back so he could read the messages pinging in. His eyes couldn't adjust fast enough to the sudden brightness.

"Iori's house was broken into!" His sister sounded scared. "Miyako said it was a digimon and it kidnapped him!"

Taichi blanched, disbelief lodging itself in his gut. Things had been quiet since the Dark Ocean. Koushiro would have let them know if something was brewing, right? This wasn't connected to that mess, was it?

The first message came in four minutes ago.

Miyako (2:44AM) _EMERGENCY- the Hida's house was attacked by a digimon. Iori was taken! I have Upamon and am going to the DW to get Hawkmon and others. I have no idea whats going on_

Miyako (2:45AM) _Iori's mom and grndpa are okay, btw. Probably gunna call police. House was trashed_

Miyako (2:47AM) _in DW. Let you know who I can find quick. Somebody say something I am freaking out_

Taichi ran a hand through his hair. Shit. Why would someone target Iori?

"What are we going to do?" Hikari whispered, leaning into his side. Tailmon hummed and rubbed against her partner's arm, eyes narrowed.

Frustration made Taichi's shoulders tense. He hated the feeling of not knowing why things were happening.

"I'll call Koushiro. See if anything weird's been going on we haven't heard about yet. You message Miyako back and we'll go in a minute to help her gather everyone's partners."

The siblings got to their feet and split. Hikari went back to her room to get her digivice and a sweatshirt. Taichi grabbed his own D-terminal and scanned to see if he received any messages his sister hadn't.

Nothing different.

He threw on warmer clothes, fishing for his phone in the pocket of yesterday's pants. He was about to press Koushiro's contact when the D-terminal beeped with a new message.

Miyako (2:49AM) _Didn't get a good look at the digi but it was a woman. Long hair, creepy leather. I think there were bats. Upamon said its LadyDevimon. Anybdy know her?_

The boy froze, mind blank.

LadyDevimon.

What the hell was she doing…?

He was interrupted by a loud shattering sound and his sister's sharp cry.

"Neko Punch!"

Taichi booked it out his door and around the corner in time to see a flaming digimon stagger backwards into Hikari's bookshelf. It looked almost like a Meramon. Yet it was a deep blue, and instead of the room sweltering with heat it felt as if winter had returned full force.

Tailmon flew at the digimon again, the Meramon look-alike raising his arms to block the blow.

Taichi ran to Hikari, slapping the light on as he went so he could see if she was injured. There was a thin trail of blood along her chin, likely from the glass, but otherwise appeared unscathed. The older brother pulled her smaller form behind his, baffled and angry at this turn of events.

Hikari leaned around Taichi's arm to call to her partner.

"Tailmon get him out of here! He could hurt Mom or Dad!"

Taichi agreed. Inside their room was no place for a battle. Most of the contents of Hikari's desk were already scattered across the floor and he cringed as Tailmon dodged a furious punch, the digimon's fist going through the drywall.

As if on cue, his mother's voice sounded from down the hall.

"Kids? What's going on in there?"

Taichi thanked every deity there could possibly be that their parents knew about digimon.

"Don't come in!" He ordered. "Tailmon, come on, get him out!" They were backed into the corner and Taichi didn't think he could get Hikari out of the room safely. There was glass everywhere and she didn't even have socks on.

"Don't you think I'm trying?" Tailmon snapped, grabbing the flaming digimon by the leg and attempting to whip him towards the open window. "BlueMeramon's a Perfect!"

"Then evolve!" He countered. Angewomon would be a tight fit, but she was one of the smallest Perfects they had. "Hikari!"

The girl had her digivice out in an instant, the glow nearly blinding them in the enclosed room. Through the glare, Taichi's stomach flipped at the panicked look that flashed across BlueMeramon's face. Before the glow of the evolution faded, the digimon flung himself across the room and grabbed Taichi, bodily throwing him towards the window.

Taichi yelled in surprise at suddenly being airborne. He spread his arms as much as possible and tried to catch hold of the window frame. Fingers gripped stubbornly to the ledge and stopped his momentum, but the sudden halt swung his lower half into the side of the building with a pain filled smack for his poor knees.

"Onii-chan!"

There was a loud thud from in the room and the wall shook, Taichi's fingers slipping on the sharp edges of the window. Bits of glass started to imbed themselves in his palms and he suddenly couldn't hold himself up. His socked feet kicked him away from the side of the apartment so he didn't brain himself on the brick on the way down.

Mind numb with the shock of falling, he could only think 'Oh good…' when Angewomon darted out the window after him.

The angel digimon caught him around the waist and pulled him in close. Taichi gulped a few times, adrenaline coursing though his veins along with the relief of not hitting the ground.

"Thanks," He panted, draping an arm over her shoulder. The night air felt almost warm compared to the frigid chill surrounding BlueMeramon. In fact, his arm tingled and stung where the digimon had grabbed him…

"Onii-chan!" Hikari's scream derailed this thought.

Angewomon sped upwards like a rocket. Taichi saw where she was aiming and no longer felt the chill of the air. Anger was heating him from the inside out.

BlueMeramon jumped away from the apartment, the chosen of light tucked in his arms. He bounded from apartment top to apartment top, clearing fifty feet in one leap.

"Oh, I don't think so," There was venom in Angewomon's low hiss. "Hold on, Taichi."

The boy wrapped his arms tight around the angel's shoulders, his palms stinging when he clenched his fists.

Angewomon soared toward them, raising her arms and summoning her bow.

"Holy Arrow!"

BlueMeramon heard the cry and changed directions at the last moment, but it was too late. The lightning arrow struck his leg and BlueMeramon let out a screech of pain. Hikari fell from his arms and Angewomon was there in an instant, cradling her partner to her chest. Taichi wanted so badly to reach out and hold her hand in his, but he kept his hands balled up, aware of the blood making them slick.

When they pulled up to hover, BlueMeramon was gone.

"Are you two okay?" Angewomon asked her charges.

Taichi grimaced. Okay was a relative term.

"He didn't hurt me," Hikari clung to her digimon for comfort and warmth. "But I'm so cold…"

The smear of blood on her chin was superficial, but concern swelled in Taichi's chest at how pale his little sister was. She was shivering hard, curling her face into Angewomon's neck.

"Let's get back to the house and warm you up then," He suggested. Hikari would always be his first priority.

"Make sure you wrap your hands too," Angewomon chastised him.

Taichi frowned, nodding absently. His mind was buzzing.

What the actual hell?

* * *

Takeru _hurt_.

He kept telling himself that his wrist wasn't broken. That the cold air was almost as good as icing it. He kind of felt like he was kidding himself, but he kept up the litany of 'I'm okay's in his head anyway. His fingers and toes were freezing, and his heels were tender from running on pavement. Both his forearms were shredded, and he shuddered to think he would have to wash the dirt out when he got home. There was a spot near his temple that was puffy and stung, and another on his hip.

But he had to get home first.

Swallowing breathlessly, Takeru got to the corner of a store and checked quickly around the edge of the building before deeming it safe. He was still a few blocks away from his building. Just a little further and he could be back with his dad, get everybody together, and hope they could track his brother down before he got hurt.

The adrenaline had faded while he hid under the car. His body was heavy, but his mind was wide awake. He was hyper-aware of every little sound, jumping at the occasional car passing and the early morning train. A bird taking flight from an overhead wire had him whipping around, heart jackhammering in his chest.

Maybe it was the distant sound of sirens keeping him on edge. They echoed hauntingly in the otherwise quiet city, still too far off for Takeru to see the lights.

They could be because of him.

The boy didn't think his father would be the one to call the police. His neighbors, however, must have heard the disturbance. They wouldn't know better.

Takeru wrapped his arms around his middle, wincing as his shirt rubbed at his raw arms. Warmth seeped through his thin nightshirt and out into the night. His teeth were chattering, and he didn't know if it was from the cold or from his frayed nerves. He refused to cry though. He wasn't sure why but breaking down into tears before he got home would feel like some twisted form of failure. Like if he cried he wouldn't actually make it back. Instead he held onto the tight feeling in his chest and used it to push himself. Get home. Find Onii-san.

Find Onii-san.

Find Onii-san.

Guilt squirmed in his stomach. He had left his brother behind.

Logically Takeru knew it wasn't as if he had seen Yamato in a bad situation and simply walked away from him. It wasn't as if he had done it on purpose. But the fact of the matter was that his brother was off somewhere and could be hurt or in danger, and he was free.

Was this how his brother had felt when he was missing? Because it was awful. Karma wasn't supposed to work like this, right?

The chosen of hope skirted around a puddle on the sidewalk and paused, eyes darting around when he saw blue lights illuminating the street ahead. He tiptoed along the line of stores and crouched behind a bus stop bench. Hiding from people seemed counterintuitive. Honestly, he wanted and needed help, but the thought of having to talk to someone who was not family was daunting. He didn't have the mental strength to come up with a lie right now, and he couldn't exactly walk up to someone and say he'd been kidnapped by an evil, flying skeleton.

Peeking out, Takeru blinked in confusion. There was a police car parked outside his apartment, lights still on and the officials up on the balcony in front of his father's place… And there were two more police cars, lights on and sirens wailing parked two buildings down. A crowd of residents surrounded both teams of officers, their chattering wafting down through the chilly night air to the street.

Wasn't that Miyako and Iori's building?

Worry for his friends compounded the already festering worry for his big brother. Indecision warred in his head. He wanted to get back and assure his dad that he was okay. Well, he was in one piece at least. But with the police there… Arriving in the middle of everything in ripped pajamas and covered in scratches was only going to raise questions he couldn't answer truthfully. Against all instincts he'd have to wait until everyone dispersed.

Takeru's blue eyes searched for a closer place to camp out. If he could hear what they were saying he would have a better idea of when he could go up.

His street had more than one bus stop, so sticking to the darker side of the road, Takeru ran at a crouch to the stop closest to his apartment. He sat in the shadow of the bench there, cradling his swollen wrist to his chest.

He strained his ears but couldn't make out individual words. A minute later the sirens from the cars down the street cut out and the shouting from upstairs became clear.

"-how many times I have to say it," His father sounded near the end of his rope. "It was just a broken lamp. My kid got up in the dark and accidentally knocked it over. It's nothing to call the cops over."

A firm voice countered him.

"I understand that sir, but the calls we got all had reports of screaming."

There was a short outcry of agreement from the bystanders.

"It scared him. Scared me too. And I apologize for waking anyone, but my kid feels bad enough about the lamp, and now there's all this attention and he's humiliated. I'd really like to get back inside and put this all to rest. He's all worked up and there's school in the morning."

Takeru was impressed. His dad was a much better liar than he was. Takeru prayed the police wouldn't want him to bring out the "kid" who broke the lamp. The rest of the conversation above wavered in and out of Takeru's attention. The boy leaned his head onto his knees and closed his eyes for a moment.

Deep in his bones there was an ache. Not from any hurt he had acquired, but an ache caused by not having the reassuring weight of Patamon on his shoulder. It made him feel exposed. Vulnerable. Made his skin crawl. The need to be with his partner was only growing the longer he sat curled behind the bench.

It was a few agonizingly slow minutes later when a static filled voice rang out through the streets from all three police car radio sets.

_All available units report. Code 278 at 198-3025 Daiba-ku 4-ban 1-go. Repeat, code 278. All units._

Takeru peered through the slats in the bench and watched one set of officers peel off from his friends' building and return to their car. A moment later he saw the police team at his own apartment heading towards the stairway. When they exited the lobby, the streetlights threw their faces into relief and Takeru could see the alarm and confusion there.

"Another one?" The closer officer asked, opening the car door.

"That's the third one in an hour. Something big is going down if these aren't false alarms," The other officer grabbed the car's radio and barked that they were on their way.

The car pulled away from the curb, quickly executing a U-turn and speeding down the street, siren blaring once more.

What was a Code 278?

Takeru shook his head lightly. He hoped it wasn't anything too serious, seeing as he was actually grateful the officers had something else to deal with.

The slam of a door made him flinch. Above, the neighbors were shuffling off to return to their homes, the excitement over for the time being. Takeru waited another two minutes after the last door on their floor swung shut to creep from his cover.

He looked both ways before zipping across the street to his building. The stairs took the last of his energy from him, but it was a better alternative than potentially getting trapped in the elevator with someone going in for an early hospital shift or something. The boy padded slowly down the hall, listening for any signs of people, but the corridors were quiet.

Takeru knocked, knuckles rapping soft and fast against the wood. He prayed none of the neighbors heard, pressing as close to the door as possible.

He caught wind of a flurry of footsteps before the door swung in abruptly.

"I don't have anything more to- Takeru!" Hiroaki's voice changed to a shocked whisper at the sight of his son.

He stepped back and Takeru darted into the apartment, relief making his legs wobbly. He watched as his father stuck his head out into the hall and took a look around before turning back and closing the door with a frown.

"Where's Yamato?"

Takeru started at the hard tone to his father's words. Told himself his dad was just scared. Anyone would be. _He_ was.

"I… I tried to get us both away, Dad. I promise! But he grabbed Onii-san again and there wasn't anything else I could do. I had to get back-" Guilt clogged his throat at the stricken look that crossed his father's face. "I'm sorry. I don't… I don't know where they went."

A word came out of his dad's mouth that Takeru knew he was not allowed to repeat.

The agitated man raked his hands through his hair, not looking at anything.

The boy stood rooted in place. There had been a million things running though his mind until he knocked on the door and now they had winked out of existence. He knew facts. He needed to call the others. He _needed_ Patamon. He needed to see if Koushiro could track the digimon or something. Yet in regard to his dad? He had absolutely no idea what to do. Takeru kind of thought the man would have at least hugged him or asked if he was okay…

In the dim light from over the sink, Takeru watched with wide eyes as the man in front of him composed himself.

"You need a computer to get Patamon and Gabumon, right? They can help you get Yamato back. I think they've been messaging you or whatever, that little phone thing Yamato has has been going off like crazy since you were taken. Come on."

His father reached out and grabbed Takeru's wrist with the intention of bringing him back towards the bedroom.

Pain rippled up Takeru's arm, and he strangled the cry that bubbled up his throat. They didn't need the cops coming back.

"Takeru?" His dad stopped and stared back at him, concern finally touching his features. "Buddy are you hurt?"

A miserable sound was all he could reply with, his eyes scrunched shut against the throbbing.

"Hey, you're okay. Let's head in the bathroom and take a look."

His father's large hand released his arm and pressed gently against his back instead, steering him off to the side. Takeru's feet moved without his consent. The tile was only one iota warmer than the street had been. He shivered and winced when the light flicked on.

"Oh my god…" His father's voice trailed off.

The chosen of hope squinted against the brightness but dared to look in the mirror.

There was a hole in the knee of his plaid pajama pants, the skin pink and rashy underneath. The sore spot on his hip had bled a myriad of tiny red dots onto the hem of his shirt. His arms were streaked with road rash, the skin puffy and red around the edges and stained dark with dirt and pavement. His left elbow was bleeding, but it was nothing compared to the swollen mess that was his wrist. It looked like it was bruising already, deep purples spreading along the inside of his forearm. On his temple was a small smudge of drying blood, but it for once felt worse than it looked.

Large blue, frightened eyes stared back at him.

"Ow…" Came out of his mouth, small and unsteady.

His father lowered to one knee in front of him, eyes roving his frame.

"I don't even know where I can touch, buddy," His hands reached out but didn't make contact.

Takeru pulled his gaze away from his reflection and curled in towards his dad. He dropped his head gingerly on the man's shoulder, letting out a few shuddering breaths when warm hands landed on his back.

"What happened?"

Takeru didn't move except to fist some of his father's shirt with his good hand.

"I made him drop me. I- I meant for Onii-san to get free too, and I thought… I didn't have time and the digimon grabbed him again and I just- our hands slipped and I… I _fell_."

There was no response for a while and Takeru let his eyes slip closed.

"You should take a shower to clean off and warm up. You're freezing," His father said after some time.

"I want Patamon."

Those statements had little to do with each other.

"We need to clean you up before those get infected."

Takeru stood back, brain avoiding the thought of anything having to touch him.

"I need to tell the others. You said the D-terminal kept going off?" God, he was exhausted.

His father pursed his lips.

"Okay, kid, compromise with me. You get in the shower and I will read the messages out loud, alright?"

Takeru was too physically and emotionally strung out to find any awkwardness about showering with his dad just on the other side of the curtain. The hot water sent him shivering again, but he was slowly relaxing under the spray. It would be so much nicer if he wasn't missing so much skin. He patted a wet cloth against the spot on his hip and his knee. They were the least of his worries, mostly protected by his pajamas so they were decently clean. He sat for a bit and scrubbed the dirt off the bottoms of his feet. They were tender, but only had superficial scratches here and there. Thank god for Tokyo's street cleaners doing their jobs.

"Okay, I just press the 'view' button, right? The green one?" His father questioned.

"Yeah," Takeru dabbed the soapy cloth at his hairline, sucking in a hiss when the ripped skin on his temple stung.

"Do you want me to read all the time stamps, or just the words?"

The eleven-year-old couldn't believe that at past three am, his brother missing, and with maybe a broken wrist, he was resisting the urge to roll his eyes at his father.

"Dad, just read the messages so we can send one too. As fast as you can, please."

There was a muffled beep.

"First couple are from your friend Miyako. Oh damnit, _that's_ what was going on down the street?"

Worry flared in Takeru's chest.

"What? What's happening?"

His father cleared his throat, his voice gruff and flat while he summarized.

"Uh, emergency. The Hida's house was broken into. Iori was kidnapped. Miyako is taking Upamon… what the hell is an Upamon… She is going to the digital world to get the other digimon. Sounds like the Hida kid's family is okay. They're calling the police. Miyako is very upset. The Upamon said it was a 'LadyDevimon'. That was almost an hour ago."

Takeru had to hold on to the side of the shower.

"The Yagami kids replied. Said they were attacked by BlueMeramon. Angewomon fought him off but they lost him. They're banged up but okay. Taichi asked everyone to reply as soon as they can."

The chosen of hope turned the water off in a daze, pulling a towel off the handle.

"Miyako messaged back a little while ago. Said she found Hawkmon, and brought back Agumon, Patamon, and Gommamon. The others were too far away, and she didn't want to be gone from her family too long. She came home and her house was a mess. Her parents said a monster came hunting for her."

Takeru's heart sunk lower and lower at each message his dad relayed. He clumsily pulled on the clothes that had been left out for him with one hand. Everything was sore. He only noticed that the clothes weren't his own when the pant legs started soaking up the leftover bathwater. His father got him things from Yamato's dresser and probably hadn't even noticed.

He wanted Patamon.

"No one else messaged for twenty minutes, so Taichi said he was going to start calling houses. So far no answer at Sora's or Koushiro's. Says he didn't get through to Jyou, but he never keeps his phone on at night anyway."

Takeru stared at his face in the mirror, pale except for the hot water induced flush on his cheekbones.

They were under attack.

"New message came in right after that. The Tachikawa girl, Mimi. Said she saw something outside her window and went to the Digital World right away. Is going to see who else's partners she can find."

The chosen of hope looked to his swollen wrist. It wasn't _that_ bad looking now that some of the dirt had been rinsed away, but the hot water hadn't done it any favors. They'd have to ice it soon.

"That was the last message. Came in about fifteen minutes ago," His father ended with a grind of his teeth.

Takeru took the D-terminal, laying it on the bathroom counter and poking away at the keyboard with one finger. He had to let them know what had happened and that he was still here.

"Takeru you're still soaking wet," Under the concerned words was thinly veiled irritation. Takeru frowned, not stopping his pecking. "And you didn't even clean your arms, Christ, kid."

Takeru bit his lip in frustration. They didn't have time. _Get Patamon, find Onii-san_, was thrumming though his veins.

He typed away at his message.

Yamato (3:53AM) _Its Takeru. Onii-san and I were attacked by a red skeleton digimon. Tried to carry us off, don't know where. I got away. Onii-san is gone._

Takeru paused, eyes blinking tiredly at the end of the message. He was home now, he could cry, right?

But his eyes stayed dry, exhaustion sapping the energy it took to break down.

He startled when something moved into his line of sight, his father's shadow blocking the glare of the bathroom lights.

"Put this on there."

A bag of ice wrapped in a thin towel was placed on his bad arm. Takeru moved it to where the ache was the worst, feeling like he was drifting away from his own body. How could everything have gone from so good to so bad in such a short time?

The D-terminal pinged and the boy leaned in to check it.

Taichi (3:55AM) _Glad to hear you are still with us, Takeru. I called around and can't get a hold of anyone else. Not a good sign. Jyou is still up in the air. Mimi, let us know if there is anyone you can't round up. Everyone meet here at my place ASAP._

A searing pain had him as back in his body as possible. He yanked the hurt arm out of his father's grip, wide eyes screaming betrayal.

His father crouched at his side, a hot towel dotted with soap suds in his hand.

"Kid, you have to get your arms cleaned. I mean it." There were bags under his dad's droopy brown eyes.

Takeru shook his head, heart clenching.

"No."

He sounded like a toddler.

"Yes. Now come here."

His father left no room for argument.

The boy's breath quickened, but he obediently shuffled closer, holding out his good arm and tucking the bad one against his stomach to hold the ice pack in place. The soap stung like mad. His father wasn't cruel, but thorough, rubbing at the places where the dirt was stubbornly clinging. Takeru curled in on himself, hunching over and pulling back as far as he could, as if physically distancing himself would help. He breathed through it, counting floor tiles and squeezing the ice.

A particularly bad wipe made him yelp, and he instinctively jerked his arm out of his father's firm grip.

"Damn it, I'm sorry, but this wouldn't be so bad if you didn't keep struggling. Just let me _help_ you, Yamato."

Takeru froze. His father didn't seem to notice the mistake, snatching up Takeru's arm again to finish. The boy slowly leaned back against the cabinets, slipping down to the floor. He knew his dad was just tired and worried and there was a lot going on, but the chosen of hope didn't really know what to make of the slip up.

One last horrible though came to him then.

They were going to have to tell Mom.

* * *

**Scrub the dirt out of your road rash or you'll end up like a friend of mine who permanently has a rock in her finger.**

**A million thank you's to everyone who faved and followed, and a special shout out to cartoonprawn for the PM. I love hearing from you guys!**


	4. Sleep Paralysis

**This chapter made possible by: the most appropriately timed review from Undesirable 13. Yesterday morning I was feeling discouraged and didn't want to write. I plopped down on the couch and resigned myself to the fact that chapter 4 was barely halfway done and I was not going to be able to keep to my schedule of updating every Friday. I didn't even really like what I had written so far, despite it taking me all week.**

**And then my phone dinged with an email. And Undesirable 13 left a long, sweet review for chapter 3 that made me want to tear up. I jumped off the couch and opened my laptop and had so much energy. I doubled the word count throughout the day and thoroughly edited the earlier writing into something I was actually proud of. This chapter was really difficult but I LOVE it now. **

**Don't ever think your reviews don't mean something. Every single one is saved to a folder on my laptop and I read them when I need to be cheered up.**

**Note: Never Hopeless took place after episode 30 of 02, right after Blackwargreymon was created. There are no DNA evolutions here.**

* * *

Ken's shoulder ached from laying on his side so awkwardly. It was more comfortable than laying on his stomach though, and with the way his hands were tied there was no way he could be on his back. The chosen of kindness held his breath, listening intently over the sound of the van's engine. The boy continued to feign unconsciousness, keeping attention off him. He didn't know if they were being watched. It was much easier to eavesdrop now that everyone was keeping quiet. He felt awful for having to resort to pinching Iori when the boy wouldn't stop fighting against his restraints, but it had been almost impossible to hear what their captors were saying. Thankfully the younger boy seemed to understand his message.

Iori lay behind him.

By the feeling of someone's spikey hair near his face and the limp way their head rolled when the van turned… The one in front of him was either Daisuke or Koushiro. Actually unconscious.

There was one other in the van, but he or she had been dropped off quietly. Not gently though. A cold, aggressive quiet that came from the threat of violence if it were broken. From the sound the person made when they fell to the floor of the vehicle it was likely someone taller. Heavier. Taichi, Yamato, or Jyou perhaps. But if the former two had been brought in, wouldn't their siblings have been taken as well?

It was either Jyou, or they were being targeted more specifically than Ken knew.

The van slowed a minute later, sending Ken's stomach churning. He was starting to get carsick. Laying in the back of what must be an emptied work van would do that to anyone. Being blindfolded wasn't helping in the least, but he counted his blessings. Pretending to be out cold was stopping him from being gagged like Iori was.

The van shuddered to a stop, and a moment later the back doors swung open.

Ken knew better than to make a break for it. The best he could do was listen and get as much information as possible. He was a genius. He hoped he could figure out some kind of plan sooner rather than later.

Being a genius didn't stop the situation from being terrifying.

The sounds of a struggle reached his ears. Muffled yelling. Clothes rustling. A grunt from a different voice. Then a metallic slam, like someone had thrown a fist or a foot at the van door.

"Let me go! What are you doing with th-"

Sora. Putting up a heck of a fight.

"Need help, or do you think you can handle one little girl?" A woman's voice sneered.

The answer was a low hum of disdain.

"Ah, well…" The woman continued. "At least you didn't drop her."

A new voice spluttered at the jibe.

"I didn't see _you_ assigned to take two of them on at once. I only dropped one of mine, you contemptuous wretch!"

"Mine had his digimon with him and they still couldn't do a thing against me, for your information. Perhaps I am just not an imbecile who lets children get the best of her…"

Ken could practically see her flipping her hair over her shoulder.

There was a growled response about not failing a second time while Ken catalogued.

At least three enemy digimon. One female, two males. Potentially another one driving the van. Did digimon know how to drive cars? Archnemon had her odd little car, but one: it wasn't like she was driving on _roads_ in the Digital World, and two: she was dead. One of the chosen had escaped, so that fourth kid in the van with them was either Yamato or Taichi.

"Get in. Be quiet," Sora's captor ordered, his tone not as grating on Ken's ears as his companions'.

Ken heard as the chosen of love stumbled into the van, the door slamming shut behind her. There was a brief moment of silence where Ken strained to hear if any of the digimon had stayed inside with them. It didn't sound like it. He could still detect muted bickering outside the van, but mostly it was just the sounds of Sora's breathing, heavy with stress.

"Sora?" He ventured to whisper.

"Ghen?" Came her stifled response. They'd gagged her too.

He waited a few seconds. When no one ordered him to be quiet, he continued.

"Sit down and head towards me slowly, I don't want you falling or stepping on anyone when the van starts going again."

He traced her movements, listening to her scoot across the van's itchy carpet until she was decently close.

The van stopped idling and they were moving over uneven pavement once more. They must be sticking to the smaller back roads for the streets to be in such disrepair. It didn't feel like they had gone far enough to leave the city… But then again Ken had no idea how much ground he'd covered while his kidnapper flew. He'd been blindfolded right off the bat.

"They don't know I'm awake. Iori's over here and I think Daisuke or Koushiro too. Its hard to tell. He's out cold. Who's on the other side of the van?" There was no harm in talking if it meant keeping as many people as possible on the same page.

There was an odd noise, the soft sound of cloth hitting the floor, and then the smacking of lips.

"Yamato," The teen answered, the name falling from his mouth like ice.

"Then Takeru got away?" Hope sparked in Ken's chest.

"From the sleazeball who took _us_ at least. The city's crawling with asshole digimon. I saw Ladydevimon, she's a real piece of work." The indignant boy gritted out.

Ken wasn't familiar with the digimon but from what he'd heard so far, he felt inclined to agree.

"Did they gag you?" He asked, bracing himself as the vehicle took a corner faster than it should have.

Yamato scoffed.

"Yeah. Badly."

"You know they're not going to make that mistake again. The next time the doors open we probably won't be able to talk again," He warned, praying that if the chosen of friendship had any important information, he'd say it now while he had the chance.

"They can _bite me_."

Ken flexed his hands, sucking in a deep breath and keeping any comments to himself. Yamato had been increasingly pleasant since the Dark Ocean. It seemed being separated from his brother was the key to sending his attitude straight to unhelpful hell.

His silence must have held a tinge of disapproval. A few moments later Yamato added tersely,

"We were heading inland. Takeru got away maybe a mile from the apartment. I got blindfolded right after that, but we flew for quite a while. There's no way we're in Odaiba anymore. Shinjuku maybe."

The chosen of kindness swallowed nervously. If that was true, then they were driving in the opposite direction he had assumed. He figured he had been nabbed first, then driven into Odaiba to pick up the others…

What on earth was _inland_?

The thought gnawed at him as the van drove on. It would be time consuming to ask Sora and Iori yes or no questions, and he didn't think they would be able to make out what they were saying around their gags. He didn't have very much information to go off and it made his heart flutter with anxiety.

Ken didn't know how long it was before the van slowed. His arms were really starting to protest their position and his nose and toes were getting cold. Thankfully he had been chilly before heading to bed and had a long sleeve shirt on and socks.

When the van stopped it was with a rough jerk, the driver jamming on the brakes and sending them skidding on the carpet towards the front.

"Ow, damnit!" There was a telltale thud as Yamato lost his balance and was knocked over.

A squeak of surprise and a second thump meant Sora had gone down as well.

Iori continued to shake silently against Ken's back.

Ken himself was distracted by someone's thick skull smacking into his chin.

"Ugh, ow… what?" A voice whined.

The blue haired boy's heart didn't know whether to drop to his toes or soar.

It was Daisuke. Not Koushiro.

Which was good, because if anyone was going to find them, it was best to have Koushiro on the outside. He was also embarrassingly relieved to have his best friend beside him during a terrible experience. The boy was an infinite spring of optimism and determination. Daisuke gave Takeru a run for his money, despite not having a crest to prove it.

Daisuke groaned softly, and Ken could feel the boy trying to roll over.

"Daisuke," He hissed urgently. There were voices coming from outside the van now. The doors would open any minute.

"Huh… what- Hey! What the he-"

"Daisuke! Daisuke, calm down," Ken whisper shouted at his best friend. He had about five seconds to get the boy to stop freaking out about realizing he was bound and blindfolded. "Hey, it's okay. Its just me, its Ken, okay? I need you to stop talking."

Daisuke mumbled something incoherent and squirmed forward, his face smushing into Ken's chest.

The handle clicked.

"Shh... hold still until I say so," He whispered hurriedly into the other boy's hair.

Daisuke's slurred "'Kay" was drowned out by the door slamming open and someone stumbling in. They toppled over almost immediately.

Ken had to wonder how much room there was in the back of this van. It felt like it was getting rather crowded. Were they _all_ going to be hunted down? And how on earth did these digimon know where they all lived? It would have taken time to stalk them all back to their homes unless there were a dozen plus enemies rallying together. But with how the chosen were being brought in in small waves, that seemed unlikely. Wormmon had been over last night and hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary. Certainly, someone would have caught wind of troops of digimon in the city…

"Koushiro, is that you?" Yamato asked.

A string of gibberish confirmed it.

"Save your breath, Koushiro. None of us have a clue what's going on. Whatever it is, we're losing already," The chosen of friendship trailed off.

"They didn't retie your gag?" Ken wondered. Surely if the digimon were wary enough to tie them so thoroughly they wouldn't want their captives talking to each other. The fact that they hadn't even checked implied they felt confident the chosen couldn't escape. That one gag wouldn't make any difference. It wasn't an encouraging feeling.

"I just put my head down. Don't think they cared much."

Yeah, not good.

The van moved on.

"Ken?" Daisuke's voice didn't sound right.

"Hey, yeah you can talk now. Are you okay?" Worry choked him.

"I think I'm going to be sick…"

"God, please don't," Yamato muttered.

Ken ignored the older boy. Daisuke's breath puffed a hot spot on his shirt.

"Take deep breaths, slow. Did someone hit you?" It wasn't likely they would have done anything else, but he wanted to rule out drugs.

The boy sniffed. The opposite of a deep breath.

"_Something_ did. I didn't even see it- I mean I woke up freezing and there was something leaning over my bed and I just… I walloped it with a textbook and it punched me? Hard, man. My head hurts."

Sora made a sympathetic noise and shuffled closer. Koushiro sounded like he was trying to ask follow up questions and was getting increasingly agitated when no one could understand him.

Ken grimaced.

Definite concussion.

* * *

Jyou joined them not long after and Ken felt his optimism take a serious dip.

The chosen of reliability would not. Stop. Moving.

Ken understood that everything about their predicament made each and every one of them want to scream in frustration. Made them want to be free to be able to communicate, to move unrestricted, and make plans to escape. He himself was starting to feel a sort of madness seep into his bones. He wanted to _get out of here._

"Jyou, you have got to stop!" Ken raised his voice as much as he dared. "There's something going on!"

The door had been closed hastily when two of the dark digimon returned to the van while Jyou was being dropped off. The lock hadn't caught, and the van door was cracked open. Now there was an argument waging outside that must be important. The words should have been easy to make out if a certain someone would be quiet. They hadn't started driving yet either, which was a plus. Ken's nausea was creeping towards very uncomfortable levels.

"-at do you mean she wasn't there? Its th-" Ken lost the second half of the sentence to Jyou's frenzied squirming.

"Ow, hey! Jyou I will kick you if you don't goddamn stop it!" Yamato threatened.

"-eramon's a fool. Word is ou-" LadyDevimon mocked cruelly.

Iori sat up clumsily, a nervous hum escaping him.

"-girls are in the wind. We won't fin-" The dignified voice was accompanied by claws clicking on the van handle.

"Oh my god, everyone shut up…" Daisuke prayed aloud.

Ken's heart was beating out of his chest. Had the others found out what was happening and gotten a warning out in time? Takeru had escaped capture so far, so maybe he had been the one to send it?

A door slammed from the front of the van and finally everyone stilled.

The driver was getting out.

"What's the problem?"

Ken frowned. Digimon voices had a wide array of pitch and tone and… This voice was low and melodic. He didn't know what to make of it.

"The other children are rallying. I doubt we will be able to get our hands on any more now." One of the male digimon growled.

"Will that really be as much an issue as he said?" The driver asked.

"You must be joking, you nitwit," LadyDevimon scoffed almost gleefully. "We've taken half their team. They'll be furious. Out for revenge. There's no way they'll listen to you now."

"And whose fault is _that_? I held up my end of the deal; how could you let this happen?"

There was a snarl, and something bumped the van door. The chosen of kindness ground his head into the carpet in frustration, his mind whirling. The voices outside lowered.

His blindfold slipped.

Ken blinked against the feeling of the fabric twisting upwards. It was still tight. Still knotted painfully in his hair, but it had shifted. His stomach flipped. He squirmed again, tucking his chin in to his chest. It budged again. Another half an inch. The boy tried to calm his breathing, feeling cool air slip under the cloth on his left side.

He opened one eye, squinting around the dark interior. There wasn't much he could see, but there was something, a slit of light? There must still be streetlights wherever they were, there was no way the sun was up yet.

"Daisuke. Sora," He breathed. "I can see a little, but you're in the way of the door. Can either of you move at all?"

The concussed boy nodded slowly, then did his best to comply. It was less of a scooch and more of a pained flop onto his front, but it worked. Sora ducked her head to her knees. Ken could see the outline of the van door. It was resting closed against the frame, but it hadn't latched yet. The rest of the van was too dark to make out.

"-sn't going to be happy…" One of the voices outside sounded almost fearful.

"I don't see how its any of his concern. All he wanted was my research on the spores."

Ken was drenched with an icy terror. Everything was cold. His body, his mind, his heart. He couldn't move.

What did the spore have to do with this? He wasn't even aware anyone else knew about it except Ryo… But he had never seen the boy again after his return to the Real World.

The spore had been inactive for a long time now. Almost a year. Since he gave up being the Kaiser. For a while the spore haunted him, like a lingering manifestation of all the wrong he had done. But he hadn't… He hadn't given the thing a single thought since his crest had activated back in November. Ken hadn't exactly forgotten it was there, but something had changed. The Shield Crest. Was it possible that the crest was protecting him from the dark spore's influence now?

How the hell had the driver even gotten his hands on data from his spore? Or were there others? And what on earth were they going to do to with it? With them?

The chosen of kindness broke into a cold sweat at the possibilities. The possibility that all this was somehow his fault.

The van door slammed shut, breaking him out of his whirling thoughts.

"What the hell were talking about?" Yamato questioned.

Ken couldn't bring himself to answer.

When the van moved forward one last time, it felt like they were running from something.

Ken was vaguely aware that the others were talking around him. Or doing the best they could. He was numb though. His ears reduced the words to meaningless babble. There was a pit opening in his chest that had not been there in a long time. Was it possible they were going to reactivate his spore? Did they think he would be able to incapacitate the other chosen and the dark digimon would be free to take over the Digital World? The Real World? Or did they manage to get their hands on more, or duplicate a spore? What if they were to mass produce it? Make a legion of maniacal followers?

No, no… The spore made him feel better than everyone else. Special. Above them. No person with a spore would lower themselves to working for another.

"Ken!" A sharp pain in his shin brought him back to the unfortunate reality. Daisuke must have kicked him.

"What?"

"We're stopping. Something's up, man." Daisuke murmured.

Ken peered up at the small strip of window above him, too high to really see out of, but enough that he could watch the passing of street lights slow to a crawl. The sound of the road underneath them changed. Echoed slightly. Were they on a bridge?

Ken's heart beat a frantic tempo against his ribs. He could hear the digimon talking outside again, too quietly to be discernable. All his senses were screaming danger.

This was it.

The door opened in a flash, the silhouette of a winged figure blocking the exit. Ken barely spared him a glance, eyes glued to the remote sized device in his hands. It looked like a grocery store bar code scanner, the wide end emitting a sharp red light.

The bird man reached for the back of Sora's shirt.

Ken panicked.

"No!"

A familiar dome of violet light shocked both him and their would-be attacker, knocking the digimon right out of the van.

The dome didn't hold, fading almost immediately. Ken blanched.

The rest was pandemonium. The other chosen had no idea what was going on, and Ken only had one eye uncovered and very poor depth perception.

Two more digimon charged into the back of the vehicle, yanking the kids to their feet by their bound hands. Ken tried to stop a muddy red skeleton from taking Daisuke away from him. The shield flickered into existence. The digimon cried out and dropped his friend. Daisuke yelped at the sudden jolt, and Ken lost concentration.

"Leave him alone!" The chosen of kindness shouted, scrambling to his feet the best he could.

Daisuke kicked out, nailing the digimon in the ankle. It didn't hurt the creature, but it was enough of a distraction for Ken to execute a front kick that would have made his old Judo sensei proud.

If only he were attacking a human. The digimon grunted, staggering back half a step before swinging out with his staff. Ken barely ducked it, cursing the fact that one of his eyes was still covered. If this all had to do with the spore, then Ken was going to do everything he could to protect the others from his mistakes. Shield crests were meant to _shield_.

He dodged backwards and solidly into the side of the van, his elbows slamming into the metal.

The digimon took advantage of his slip, snatching both him and Daisuke by the arm and dragging them bodily out into the street. He let the other chosen fall to his knees beside them, using his gauntleted hand to cover Ken's mouth.

"Don't. Move."

Ken took the threat seriously, glaring out from under his blindfold. The skeleton digimon looked like he was barely retraining himself from crushing Ken right then and there.

"Would you stop that?" The driver's voice cut through the night air. "How do you expect any of them to listen to reason if you all keep roughing them up?"

Ken ripped his gaze away from the skeleton, confusion sweeping through him at the sight of the others.

Yamato and Jyou were untied. Their blindfolds removed. The two older boys stood off to the side of a glowing blue Meramon. Jyou wiggled his hands in front of his face, mild befuddlement in his eyes like he hadn't seen then before. Yamato observed the bridge they stood on with disinterest. They didn't even seem to feel the bite to the air that was raising goosebumps all down Ken's arms.

LadyDevimon stood only a few feet away, tormenting Iori with her disturbing giggling. He was pulling as far from her as she would allow, obviously frightened. Sora shouted abuses at the witch through her gag, arms held tight by the digiwomon's nails.

"Here, now don't struggle. This won't hurt. Just hold still…"

Ken almost threw up.

The driver faced away from him, bending over Koushiro and holding the device to the back of the chosen of knowledge's neck. Koushiro flinched at the beep the pierced the night air, and then sagged, all the tension leaving his body. The driver undid the tech whiz's restraints. Ken stiffened when Koushiro stood slowly, looking around. The nearest streetlamp brought his face into relief. Though calm, the boy's eyes were glassy. Glazed like he was…

Drunk. Drugged.

Before Ken could process, the driver repeated the process with Sora.

Pulse quickening to unhealthy levels, Ken stared in horror.

If they were distributing spores, why weren't the others reacting the way he had? He had flashes of a hot, searing pain, and a persistent headache that lasted weeks. The actual effects of the spore had taken months to manifest. What was wrong with them?

LadyDevimon pushed Iori to his knees next, and Ken couldn't stop the shield from bursting to life between the small boy and the devil. She twisted away from the light, snarling at him. The skeleton jabbed the ball of his staff under Ken's chin, the orb heating with restrained power.

"You will not do that again..." The skeleton hissed.

Ken's heartbeat roared in his ears. He was no good to his team if he got his head blown off.

"How is he doing that…?" The driver asked curiously, if not a bit nervously. He stood tall and turned, his face alighting as well.

It was a man. Though Archnemon had looked very much like a human woman, Ken was almost positive this man was mortal. He was tall and thin, his trench coat hanging off his frame. Small dark eyes were lined with dark bags on a pale face. Long, stringy hair framed his face like curtains.

When Ken was not forthcoming with his answer, the man pursed his lips and turned back to Iori.

The chosen of kindness watched as all his friends took their turn with the scanner. They stood in a disorganized cluster on the sidewalk, no recognition in their eyes when they looked at him. Daisuke may have watched him more than the others, but Ken was probably imagining it.

The driver seemed excited now, fidgeting with a thin deck of oversized cards and smiling to himself. The digimon stepped back, dragging Ken with them. The boy heard a dark chuckle from the freezing Meramon and foreboding tugged at his gut. The man crouched in the middle of the road, placing nine cards into a pattern on the street.

"Just like he said!" The man sung to himself as he placed the last card in its spot.

The moment he did, a light glimmered under the cards and surged upwards. It gathered a dozen feet in the air and then swirled, spreading outwards until it touched the pavement.

Ken's eyes whipped around, landing on the apartments on either side of the bridge. Was no one seeing this?

"A gate… After all these years… Hiroki, I did it. For you. For us!" The man whispered reverently. Were there tears in his eyes? "I'll show them we belong. I promised you."

LadyDevimon's smirk only tightened the grip terror had on Ken's heart. This was wrong. This felt so _wrong_.

"Come, children!" He beckoned with a wave and the chosen obediently plodded towards him. "You can show me around and we can meet all your friends. I've waited so long to see the Digital World."

Ken was floored, not even registering when he was marched toward the glowing portal.

The Digital World? Is that what that man thought he was looking at? Was he even seeing the same thing Ken was? Because all Ken saw was a hazy yellowish fog beyond the boundary between the worlds. He dug his heels into the ground and felt his socks tear when the digimon pushed harder.

"This one might need more convincing than the others," It snickered, giving the boy a rough shove. A cool hand caught him before he could fall.

"Its okay, Ken. Everything will be fine, you'll see." The man reassured, pulling Ken's blindfold off.

The chosen of kindness stared up into the man's strange face until his eyes watered. The look in his eyes made Ken think he was unhinged.

"Don't-" Ken's voice was nothing but a croak of desperation.

"Time to go!" The man cheered to himself.

Surrounded by his friends and held by a potentially hallucinating stranger, Ken was guided into the portal.

The world around him wavered. Warmth surrounded him. The grip the man had on him loosened, and Ken whirled around just in time to see LadyDevimon rip the cards in half.

Everything went white.

* * *

**I upped the rating to T... mostly for this chapter? Just for distressing subjects like mass kidnapping, Creepy McCreeperson himself, and doing whatever he did to the kids. **

**I REALLY twisted up the end of 02...**

**There may be a week delay on the next chapter depending on if Avengers: Endgame murders me**


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